I Want You to Live Forever
by ariel2me
Summary: Cassana Baratheon reflecting on her children.


"Every child is different," her own mother had told Cassana when she was pregnant with her second son. That had been her mantra over the years, as she watched her two sons grew from babes suckling on her breasts to boys of twelve and eleven. Robert at twelve was almost as tall as his father, broad-shouldered and muscular, and already turning women's head. _A young man, not a boy_, she thought.

Stannis looked a child still, his features not as clearly defined as his brother. A strange boy, her father had remarked more than once, the last time within his grandsons' hearing. The memory of it angered her still.

She gently removed her husband's hand cupping her breast, fastened her robe and walked to the window. He didn't stir from his sleep. She envied his peace of mind at times. Even before she drew back the curtain, she could see her younger son running across the field, Proudwing perched on his shoulder. "He's trying to train that damn animal hawking again", she muttered under her breath.

She blamed her father for this too. Stannis had been content playing with the wounded hawk he found and nursed back to health inside the castle. The bird would follow him from room to room, eating grains from his cupped palm. Until her father was at Storm's End for one of his visits, and recklessly suggested that Stannis took Proudwing hawking with Thunderclap, Robert's pride and joy.

That first attempt had been a disaster. Proudwing absolutely refused to leave Stannis' shoulder at first, and when she did, she flew straight into a tree branch. Robert had recounted what happened with glee at the dinner table, while her younger son sat silent and tight-lipped. She knew _that_ look of stubborn, sullen determination on his face. And sure enough, he had been waking up before dawn each morning to train Proudwing.

She had admonished her older son later, with the same words she had said many times before. _Be kinder to your brother. You are the elder, and the heir, others will follow your lead. If you treat your brother badly, they will too._ She raged inside at how hollow her own words were, but what else was there to say? Robert had looked contrite, apologized, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She could not help but smiled.

How different they are, her two sons born from the seeds of the same man, carried inside the same womb, albeit at different times. Charming, funny, joyful Robert, who laughs at everything and has a smile for everyone. Who is loved and adored by almost everyone in the castle, from the master-at-arms to the cooks.

And Stannis? She did not want to think of him now. _You occupy too much of my thoughts. It's not fair to your brother._

"What are you doing?" Steffon Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, her nominal lord and master, her dear husband, finally stirred from his sleep. He walked stark naked to the window, towering beside her.

"Put some clothes on. The servants might see you."

"What servants? It's too early for them to be running around."

"Not to early for your son to be running around with that blasted bird."

Incredibly, her husband seemed proud. He had the "there's my boy!" look on his face. She was too tired to start an argument, so she said nothing. _He sees only the will and determination, but not the anger and sadness driving that will and determination._

"He is half Targaryen," her grandmother had warned her, soon after her father had arranged the match. "You know what they say about Targaryens. Half of them are mad. The gods flip a coin when a Targaryen is born."

"Well, he is only half Targaryen, so it's more like flipping a four-sided coin. There is a higher chance that he is sane," she had blithely answered. She had liked the look of Steffon Baratheon from that first meeting, and her grandmother's disapproval did not deter her.

"You are too clever for your own good, Cassana," her grandmother had snapped. "Men do not want clever wives."

"So I should be dumb instead?"

"No. You should be clever enough to hide your cleverness."

The truth is, she had spent most of her life hiding her true self from others. Her impatient self, the self who abhorred empty courtesies and pleasantries, who was always on the verge of biting, unpleasant remarks. She had realized from an early age that the world is not kind to girls and women who are perceived to be unpleasant or 'difficult'. Or headstrong. Smile and look agreeable. Say yes now even if you disagree, and find a way to get what you really want later. She had taught herself all these from an early age.

So it frustrated her that her younger son, who reminded her so much of herself, would not learn the same lessons to accommodate the world. _I need you to learn this so you would be happy, you would be loved, you would live a fulfilled life._ She wanted to scream at him at times. _You are not a girl and you will not grow to be a woman, but you are the younger brother of a charming, adored and beloved man, and the world will judge you for lacking his qualities._

She had tried explaining this to her husband once, all her fears and worries about their younger son.

"But perhaps he is different. Perhaps he truly doesn't care what other people think of him."

She had given her husband an incredulous look. _How is it_, she thought, _how is it possible that this kind, gentle, thoughtful man, this loving husband and wonderful father, how could he be so entirely clueless about one of his sons?_

"Of course he cares! Why else do you think he's so unhappy and miserable?" She had shouted the words too loud, and her husband's wounded look cooled her anger immediately.

"I never thought he was miserable. Only that ... well, he doesn't show his joy the same way as Robert. But if he is truly unhappy ..." Steffon's words trailed off into silence.

She sighed. He continued. "What did we ... what did I do wrong? Did we fail him in some way?"

She went to him, gently stroked his hair and whispered, "No, my love. You did nothing wrong. Every child is different, my mother used to say."

They had not revisited that conversation since. She rested her head on her husband's arm now, as they stood at the window watching their son desperately trying to coax Proudwing to soar. _Fly_, she silently prayed, _please fly for him_. The bird stayed resolutely non airborne, and her heart broke into a million little pieces. She buried her face in her husband's arm, unwilling to watch more. But then she heard him laughing.

"What? Did she fly?"

"No. But look!"

She held up her head, and looked. Stannis had Proudwing perched on his palm now instead of his shoulder. She was kissing him on the cheeks, one after the other in quick succession. over and over again. _He wouldn't like her being too close_, was her first thought. But incredibly, her son was laughing. He was actually laughing! She wished for time to stop, to catch him in this unguarded moment of unexpected joy, and to immortalize it forever.

**Note**: I'm going with the age in the books where Stannis is 35 when Renly is 21, so Renly wasn't born yet at this time.


End file.
